


A Lack of Sleep

by BekkaChaos



Series: Gallavich Drabbles [39]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Boyfriends, Fluff, Gallavich, M/M, Memories of 3x06, Mickey Uses His Words, Nightmares, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1603937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BekkaChaos/pseuds/BekkaChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i><b>based on a prompt:</b> 1. The rape scene from Mickey’s POV and 2. Post season 4 (no bipolar Ian) they discuss the rape and their feelings about it.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lack of Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I tried, it sort of went in a different direction than I thought but I hope it's okay!

It never quite did go away for Mickey, the memories of that day. He could never quite shake them from his mind.

He tried not to let Ian find out about his nightmares, the ones that still haunted him. It was like that day was playing over and over again and he couldn't get out until the last minute, and it always ended in the same way.

 

_"What the fuck?!"_

_Mickey turned his head on the side to see his father standing in the doorway turning a darker shade of rage with every second that he stared inside._

_He jumped back down, scrambling for his boxers while he saw Ian doing the same. Every part of him was shaking and the fear that ran through his veins was inexplicable._

_"Dad, hold on... hold on..." He said, his voice struggling to come out as he watched the hate in his father's eyes hone in on Ian._

_"Mandy wasn't enough for you? Huh?!" He shouted, swinging a fist that collided sharply with Ian's jaw and sending him flying backwards into the couch._

_"Dad! Dad!" Mickey shouted, heart pounding in his chest as the scene seemed to go by in slow motion._

_"You sick piece of shit!" His fist pounded into Ian whose face was being covered in his own blood._

_"Get off him! Get the fuck off him!" Mickey yelled, leaping onto Terry's back and wrapping an arm around his throat, only for him to stumbled backwards and crash them both down on the couch._

_He pulled Mickey back when he tried to get out from under him, pinning him there and slamming his fists into his face._

_"No son of mine is going to be a god damn AIDS monkey!"_

_Those words were the last that he remembered, it all went black after that._

_When he woke up he saw Ian sitting in the chair by the couch, still as anything and breathing heavily through his nose. His eyes flicked over to Mickey for a moment and his face contorted into a mask of even greater fear._

_Mickey tried to move, tried to sit up but his head was pounding and he could feel the dried blood all over his face and chest. He managed to sit himself up in a slumped position and his eyes saw his father by the door, his gun pointed at Ian and his fiery eyes glaring at his son with nothing but contempt._

_They were going to die here in this room, the feeling spread through him and he knew that the worst was still coming._

_He heard the door click and looked over to see a woman walk through the door. Her eyes were stoic and she had more make-up on than anyone Mickey knew and what she wore left nothing to the imagination._

_He couldn't believe was he was seeing._

_"That one." His father pointed at him and walked around to stand behind him, getting low enough to growl in his ear. "She's gonna fuck the faggot out of you kid." He said and Ian's face was heartbreaking, "Ride him 'til he likes it." She pulled her dress up and over her head, naked completely and began to pull his boxers down._

_It hurt, even just that simple movement made him feel splinters and daggers in his brain where his headache was growing._

_"And you're god-damn going to watch."_

_It made Mickey's chest hurt too. It made him hurt in a way he couldn't describe. The look on Ian's face as she straddled Mickey's lap was excruciating. He kept staring at him, pleading with him to stop looking at him like he was about to cry, like he was seconds away from falling apart._

_The feel of her touching him, the feeling of her rubbing him until he was ready and then sliding down onto him made him sick, his skin itched and he wanted so desperately to tell Ian that it would be fine, to shove her away and stand up to his father but everything hurt. It all hurt so much and he wanted to scream, he wanted to get out and and just bury himself somewhere deep and dark and never come out._

_He couldn't stare at Ian's broken face anymore, his father's gun still pointed between the two of them. This moment was killing him, he was afraid it would never end and he just wanted to get out._

_So he broke away from Ian's eyes and turned the girl over, slamming into her to try and stop it, to get it over with as soon as he could because everything hurt and his head pounded and threatened to split in two and he knew this was going to be harder than it should be._

_He focused on anything else, he closed his eyes and grunted through the pain and it was too long before it ended and he was wrenching himself away. He felt dirty and disgusting and he turned to look at Ian for a moment, trying to say sorry with his eyes._

_And the dream always ends the same way; Terry sees the last look between them, aims his gun at Ian, and pulls the trigger._

 

Mickey woke up in a sheen of sweat, sitting stark upright and panting furiously, clutching at his head and turning to see Ian beside him, sleeping quietly and he bit his lip, trying to stay silent.

His hands were shaky but it wasn't unusual after a nightmare like this. He shook his head and threw the covers back, stepping out of bed and pulling on a pair of boxers before walking out into the kitchen.

He grabbed the cigarettes off the bench and lit up, trying to steady his hands as he sat down, running his hand through his hair.

"Hey, you okay?" He turned to see Ian walking towards him, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah, just... couldn't sleep." He mumbled and Ian came to sit next to him.

"Come on Mick, I know you get dreams." He said, stealing one of the cigarettes from the pack.

"It's nothing man." He said, taking a long drag.

"What are they about? I mean, I know sometimes they're worse. You get pretty restless some nights." He said as he looked at him again and Mickey sighed.

"That time my dad caught us." He said quietly.

Ian's face dropped a little and he nodded. "Yeah... I get that one sometimes too."

Mickey looked up. "You do?"

"Uh huh. It's not like it's something you just forget."

"Yeah." Mickey said, trying to get the image out of his mind, but it was a scar, burned in there and not likely to be erased.

"So do you just dream about what happened?" Ian asked.

"Yeah, like a fuckin' replay. Always ends different though." He sighed, looking over into the living room as if it had actually happened that way, hearing the sound of the gun go off and flinching away.

Ian scoot his chair closer and put a soft hand on his shoulder. "Well what happens then?" He said, his other hand sliding gently up and down his bare thigh to try and comfort him.

Mickey just shook his head with a sigh.

"I'm here, you can tell me." Ian whispered.

Mickey sniffed a little. "You get a fuckin' bullet to the brain is what happens then. Every fuckin' time." He said, his voice breaking a little and Ian rests his cheek on Mickey's shoulder.

"Mine never end like that. They always end with you and her, up on that alter, except you're smiling and... happy. It's..." He just sighed biting down on his lip.

Their nightmares hadn't changed, and they weren't likely to go away any time soon. Mickey's biggest fear was living in a world where Ian didn't exist, and Ian's was trying to live knowing that Mickey was in love with someone else. Mickey's spare hand was gripping the hand on his thigh tightly and he had his eyes shut even tighter.

"Every fucked up thing that's happened is because of that fucking day." He said, choked out past the lump in his throat.

"I know, sometimes I just wonder what it would be like if it never happened." Ian said.

"What does that matter now? I got a kid, I'm married. Soon as my dad gets out I'm fucking dead anyway." He said, his eyes a little glassy and Ian raised his hand to cup his cheek.

"He's never getting out, you know when he does he's just going to end up right back in there anyway." His thumb stroked his soft skin.

Mickey scoffed a little, his eyes wide trying to pretend that tears weren't building up behind them. "He's gonna be in there for shooting you or me. We're always going to be fuckin' running from that fucker." He said. "Like it's not bad enough that I had to grow up with him but that day was when he gave me no choice in a fucking future either."

"Hey, hey." Ian said, leaning his forehead in to rest against Mickey's who was sniffling as he tried to hold back his emotions. "It doesn't fucking define you, he's an evil psychotic prick who doesn't give a shit. You can't let him control you like this." 

"Well what else is there? Huh? What other choice do I have?" He choked.

"We can leave, get out of here. Find our own place." He offered.

He scoffed a little but didn't break their touch. "Yeah? And go where?"

"I don't know. Another state, another city. I can start saving my money from the club, and we can make money on the road, I mean it's not like we don't know how to make money fast." Ian offered.

"What, and you want me to just get a divorce and leave my kid with a whore for a mom and nothing in his fuckin' pocket?"

"She can't blackmail you anymore Mick."

"It ain't about that. You know I can't just-" He sighed, a tear rolling down his cheek. "I ain't gonna turn into my fuckin' dad."

"Listen to me, you're nothing like him and you never will be." He kissed him lightly on the mouth and wiped away his tear with his thumb. "We'll figure it out, you and me okay? I'm not leaving you. No matter what."

"Don't." Mickey breathed and this time it was more than enough for Ian.

They sat there for a while, not moving and Mickey almost hoped that they could stay that way, never moving forward or back. Just living in this moment like nothing else had happened.

It was a pipe dream, an impossible dream, but there were nightmares out there that were much worse.

Mickey still had his dreams, always ending the same, with himself staring down at Ian's body, blank stare and lying in a pool of blood, his spark gone and his father spitting down at him with a slur.

Every time he did Ian would wake beside him, grabbing him and pinning him down with his body, whispering gently until Mickey had calmed down and was clinging to him like he was desperately afraid of opening his eyes again to an empty bed.

And Ian promised he wasn't going anywhere. And some days he swore he was going to kill Terry if he even came near them again for what he put them through, for the life he stuck Mickey with, for giving him these nightmares.

One day they would get away, one day they would have something that was theirs, but for now they were just trying to pick up the pieces of each other and figure out where they fitted. Turns out they were a patchwork quilt, woven into one another and there wasn't going to be an easy way of tearing them apart.


End file.
